


Pinky and the Brain, Sort Of

by betweenthebliss



Category: Firefly, West Wing
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Silly, under 1000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenthebliss/pseuds/betweenthebliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>except it's "one is a badass, the other can't shut his goddamn mouth". ;D written at the exhortation of douxquemiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinky and the Brain, Sort Of

Sam was used to dealing with strange people-- or at least, people whose habits and mannerisms were foreign to him, to the point that he felt qualified to label them as really weird. He dealt with that a lot. They were all sort of idiot savants in the Bartlet administration, but they were all the same kind of idiot. Namely the kind who could list all the members of Congress in alphabetical order yet still couldn't manage to hold down a relationship that lasted for longer than six weeks and didn't put him in danger of a federal indictment.

So the point is, Sam was used to people who were a little odd. But the day they brought in the guy who was going to be on his Secret Service detail during his trip to Qumar, he started to think maybe he should re-evaluate all those people he'd previously labeled as being weird, even if he'd only labeled them in his head.

First of all-- and Sam made a point of saying this to himself every time he thought it-- he had _nothing_ against people from the South. Some of his favorite people were from-- Ainsley was from the South, okay, he had nothing against people from the South. But the man's name was Jayne. Like Jayne Mansfield, except instead of a great rack and legs that went on for miles, he looked like he could play a double-header for the Jets and then run a few more miles for the exercise afterward.

Ron finally left them alone and Sam looked up at the guy the way Wile E. Coyote looks up at the anvil when it's about to fall on his head. Well. If there was one thing Sam could do, it was talk. He figured small talk might be a good place to start, and maybe to end, too, depending on how things went. "How long have you been with the Secret Service?" he asked brightly.

Jayne sniffed-- snorted, really, it was almost a hawking sound. Sam wondered idly if the White House had a spare spittoon anywhere. "Long enough to keep you from gettin' snuffed while I got my eye on you."

Sam nodded. "Great. Sounds great."

He'd heard the phrase 'humorless grin' before, but had never seen it in action until Jayne bared his teeth just then. "Look, Princeton, I know what you're thinkin'. You're thinkin' I'm a dumb hick who ain't got two brain cells to rub together, and you might be right about that. But I've been in two wars, protected diplomats in Iraq, the Sudan and Kazakhstan. I been in firefights during sandstorms where you couldn't even see if you were shootin' yourself in the foot, let alone if you were hittin' your target. So forgive me if I don't partic'ly feel like babysittin' you while you have lunch with the Qumari leadership's gonna be a terrible hardship."

Sam swallowed. Actually it was more like a gulp. "I promise I meant no offense. I'm-- I'm honored to have you protecting me, I mean it."

"Well that's settled then," said Jayne with a cheerful shrug. He dug around in his pocket, pulling out the stub of a cigar and sticking it between his teeth. "There a place I can have a smoke 'fore we get on the plane?"


End file.
